As Solarius rose and cast his golden ray upon Tharros Vale, the forest answered with a choir of birdsong and rustling leaves. The scent of dew still hung in the air, slipping through the cracked window of my chamber.
I blinked, groaned, and rolled over.Dammit… I need more sleep.Last night's drinking with Bishop Austin dragged on until the moon yawned its last breath. He stumbled back into his brewery, singing some off-key hymn, and I crashed onto my bed like a sack of barley.
Not drunk. Just… exhausted.Between Mathilda's drama and Austin's never-ending toasts, my soul needed a vacation.
I rubbed my face and stared at the ceiling.Did I make the right choice appointing her as Spymaster?
I sighed. Too late to doubt now. Let's just see how it plays out.
Then I turned to my side… and froze.
A figure. Long black hair. Draped in my blanket.Soft breathing. Bare shoulders.
Mathilda.
In. My. Bed.
My heart dropped like a lead coin in a well.
I threw the blanket aside—gently, but fast. Checked myself.Birthday suit. Stark naked.
"Oh, gods…" I groaned. "No. No. No, no, no."
This was the stuff of scandal scrolls and tavern whispers.Sleeping with a subordinate. The Spymaster, no less.The mysterious, no-nonsense, knife-between-the-teeth Mathilda.
Office romance. A classic pitfall.I had become… the corporate playboy.
"Mathilda." I nudged her shoulder. Her skin was soft. Softer than any women in my old world, and this one.She stirred, stretched her arms—long, lithe, elegant—and the blanket slipped just enough to make my eyes dart away in panic.
"Morning, Leo," she said, voice smooth like warm tea. "Did you sleep well?"
"I suppose I did," I muttered, blinking hard. "I slept very well. So well, in fact, I don't remember anything."
She tilted her head. "You said you had a private matter to discuss. I snuck into your room after you passed out. You were fast asleep, and I was quite tired myself… So I stayed."
"…Stayed?"
She nodded. "In your bed."
"With no clothes on?"
"I always sleep naked indoors," she replied like it was the most normal thing in the world. "You looked uncomfortable in your garments, so I helped you undress. I thought that was common practice."
My brain short-circuited.
"So... we just slept?"
"Of course. You were snoring like a bear."
Crisis averted.No illicit affair. Just mutual unconscious nudity. Still probably HR's worst nightmare, if we had HR. Still incredibly inappropriate, but... technically innocent.
"Right. Well. Next time, I usually keep my undergarments on. You know, in case of... bedbugs."
She smirked. "You'll live."
I sat up, keeping the blanket clutched around my waist like a shield. "Alright. Since you're awake—there's something I want to ask you."
"Oh?" Her tone sharpened, curious. "A test already? How exciting."
"Yeah. Consider it your first challenge as Spymaster."
"Ask away," she said, stretching again—and this time the blanket gave up entirely.
I turned my whole body around. DOWN, BOY. KEEP IT TOGETHER.
"Get dressed first," I choked out. "We'll talk over breakfast. In the dining hall. With food. And clothes."
We got down to the dining hall and helped ourselves to the morning spread—bread, cheese, cold ham, and some oddly bitter fruit.Gods above, I'd kill for a cup of coffee.Too bad this realm only serves water, ale, and broken dreams.
In the corner, I spotted Austin passed out in his black robe, snoring like a contented bear. He didn't make it to his brewery after all... Across the room, Karl was already humming some nonsense tune.
🎵 Ham, cheese, bread... tomato slices, lettuce leaf... makes a hearty mealll... 🎵
He was basically singing about hamburgers.In a world where hamburgers don't even exist.Inspiring.
"Don't forget to fry some potatoes and throw in a toy, Karl," I called. "Make it a proper happy meal."
He paused—eyes wide like I'd just whispered the meaning of life—then bolted into the kitchen, shouting for oil and root vegetables.
Mathilda chuckled softly. I took that as my cue.
"I'd like to talk about your test now," I said. "As you heard earlier—your first assignment is to dig up everything you can about me. No time limit. No boundaries. Just tell me who is Leonhart Adler. In detail. The more, the better."
She raised a brow, that sly smile curling on her lips. "Wow. No pressure, huh?"
I leaned back. "Is that a problem?"
"Well..." She took a sip of water, gaze never leaving mine. "You're not exactly an open book. Or even a book at all."
I blinked.
"You appeared out of nowhere. No family, no records, not even a distant cousin with a vague resemblance. The first time you show up on paper was when you joined Count Gerhart's war camp as a scribe."
She picked up a cucumber slice and—gods help me—ate it whole from the tip, tongue out, like she was auditioning for something unholy.
I cleared my throat, focusing very hard on the ceiling.
"You were there to document his heroics during the demon war," she continued, casually. "He lived. You lived. Now here you are, scribe of a fledgling realm."
I nodded. "That's the gist of it."
Then I turned serious. "Now, I want you to build your network. Get eyes and ears across the realm. I want every secret, every whisper, every dagger in the dark—thwart their plans, and support ours. For the good of Tharros Vale."
Mathilda stood, brushing crumbs off her tunic. "Gladly, Leo. I'll begin today."
Then she leaned close and whispered near my ear, "See you tonight. In your room..."
She walked off with the grace of a panther.
Dear gods.I really need to assign her a separate chamber.Or I might do something... regrettably desirable.
A few days had passed since the infamous kitchen-sleeping incident, and more secretive inappropriate nudity in my room event. I immediately asked Gerhart to enforce two things: first, assign everyone a separate sleeping quarter. Second, ban sleeping in the kitchen after a night of drinking.
The first request passed with zero drama.Franz was relieved he no longer had to share a bed with Karl.Karl was thrilled he now had more space to store snacks in his room.Zieg? Well, Zieg was Zieg—nodding in silence like the stoic monk he was.Mathilda? She teased me, of course.
"Aww... no one's warming my bed anymore? I swear, I've trained the bedbugs to be obedient," she said, eyes sparkling with concerning glee.
The second request, however... didn't go quite as planned.
"I'll sleep wherever the hell I want, son! Y'all keep your fancy little rooms! But the kitchen and dining hall? That's common ground! If I wanna sleep there, I will sleep there—whenever, wherever, and for however long I please! If you're down with that, gimme a HELL YEAH!!" bellowed the Bishop.
Karl immediately clapped in support."HELL YEAH!!! Midnight snacks, then nap right after—perfect!!!"
And just like that... our petition was smashed flat on the table by the Rattlesnake himself.I admit defeat.
Meanwhile, reports from the farmland began to pour in. The ex-mercenaries were surprisingly good at agriculture. Grain production soared. The Bovinids' method—what we'd call polyculture farming in the modern world—was yielding incredible results. The land thrived, people were happy, and Gerhart was practically levitating with joy.
One report, however, caught my attention.
Apparently, they'd started bartering root vegetables for forest herbs... with ELVES.
I rubbed my eyes, thinking maybe I misread it. But no.
There it was, in clear ink:E. L. V. E. S.
My mind immediately jumped to Lady Arwen from Lord of the Rings—elegant, radiant, ethereal... stopping Sauron's army with a wave of her hand. Ah, Liv Tyler. Goddess of my teenage years.
"They wanna meet you, Leo," Karl said, handing me the report.
"Me? But you're the Chancellor, Karl. And if it's official business, shouldn't they be speaking to Count Gerhart?" I asked.
Karl just shrugged."No idea why. Apparently, they spoke to Adolf and Hans. Asked who gave the Bovinids permission to settle here. And your name came up. So now they wanna meet you."
Ah. That explains it.I sighed. More work for me, I guess.
A few days later, all preparations were done. The council saw me off at the castle courtyard. In the distance, I could hear Ziegler barking orders at the militia during drills. The Bishop was too busy in his brewery to bless our trip—or throw in some raunchy jokes.
Count Gerhart assigned Franz to accompany me, giving me a wide smile."Say hello to them for me."
"And see if they got something tasty over there, yeah Leo?" Karl added with a grin.
"Don't let the bedbugs bite," Mathilda chimed in sweetly. Too sweetly.
And with that... I rode off to meet the elves.
"You know, Leo. I'm actually surprised by your bravery," Franz said as we rode through the open plain.
"Huh? Come again?" I blinked.
"We don't usually deal with the elves. They're... reclusive. Mysterious. They've lived in those woods long before we even set foot here. Count Gerhart decided to leave them be—as long as they don't kidnap our kids or harass hunters, we don't bother them."
Great. My brain, still drunk on Arwen and Galadriel fan dreams, had completely ignored the danger of this trip. Once the fog lifted, dread set in. What if these elves weren't Tolkien elves? What if they were more... feral forest demon than sparkly archers of peace?
I glanced at our tiny party: me, Franz, and three barely-trained guards. Wonderful.I've basically marched us into danger.Sorry, guys.
"Any lesser man would've ignored this invitation," Franz continued, still studying the map. "But you took on the burden. You're braver than I gave you credit for."
Thanks, Franz.Too bad I absolutely do not believe in this decision right now.
We left the last trace of civilization behind. The grassy plains slowly gave way to wild thickets and towering trees. The scent of freshly cut grass still lingered in my nostrils—but even that faded as we approached the forest's edge.
"This is as far as I go, m'lord," our local guide said, tugging on his horse's reins.
We paid him his fare. I handed him a few extra coins as a tip.
"Thank you kindly, sir!" he beamed, eyes sparkling.
Franz muttered something about wasteful spending, but I ignored him. Let the guy have a good lunch. Might be the last happy face we see today.
The forest loomed ahead like a cathedral of shadows. As soon as we passed under the canopy, our horses began to snort and shuffle nervously. They refused to go any further.
We dismounted.
"From here, we walk." Franz sounded far too calm for a man walking into possible elven death-trap territory.
With every step into the woods, the sunlight dimmed. The air grew thick with the scent of moss and damp bark. Yet strangely... the forest was pristine. No fallen leaves. No broken branches. No signs of animal waste or decay.
It was as if a team of obsessive park rangers swept the place every morning with invisible brooms.
That's when the forest rumbled.
Not wind. Not thunder.
Footsteps. Heavy ones.
We stopped cold.
Franz unsheathed his sword in one clean motion. The guards moved ahead of us, shields raised, spears out.
I... froze. My mouth moved on its own.
"Ohshitweredoomedohshitweredoomed..."
Branches snapped. The ground trembled. The trees themselves seemed to lean back to make way.
Then it appeared.
A massive tree-creature, easily three stories tall, with bark like cracked armor and eyes glowing ember-red. It stared down at us, its expression somewhere between deep suspicion and "I might step on you."
All around it, smaller humanoid tree-beings emerged silently from the underbrush. Their eyes glowed faintly, their limbs creaked like old ships.
I choked.
"Hello, guest of the woods," a smooth voice echoed—not from the giant tree itself, but from its shoulder.
There, perched with unsettling ease, stood a figure in a dark green cloak. Long silver hair. Pointed ears. A bow slung over his back.
An elf.
"I believe you are Leonhart Alder of Tharros Vale," he continued, his voice calm, but firm."Please, be at ease. We mean you no harm. If you would, follow us. Our kin would speak with you in peace."
I tried to nod, but my body was still catching up to the idea that we weren't about to be tree-fertilizer.
Franz lowered his sword slowly. The guards exchanged nervous glances.
Well.
So much for a casual diplomatic visit.
The elven settlement was far from what I imagined.
It didn't look like something straight out of The Lord of the Rings. No towering castle hidden deep within a mystical forest. No silver palaces bathing in moonlight. Instead, they lived around a colossal tree in a sunlit glade—an open, breathing space where nature wasn't just a backdrop, it was the architecture.
Their buildings were made of wood, bark, and woven leaves, nearly invisible at first glance, blending into their surroundings like shadows under the sun. Simple, yes. But not crude. In fact, they had that elegant minimalism—clean lines, soft textures, and warm tones. If Japandi architecture ever needed spiritual ancestors, it would be here.
The elves themselves? Still beautiful. More beautiful than anything I've seen in this world. Well... maybe Mathilda could compete. But that's not the point.
They weren't adorned in gleaming silver robes or golden crowns. They wore clothes meant to move in—practical, breathable, elegant in their own right. We were greeted with bows and solemn smiles, not fanfare. They moved with grace, but without arrogance.
As for the walking trees—yes, literal walking trees—they were called Forest Spirits.
The large one was a Treeman named Oakheart. The smaller ones were Dryads. Apparently, they only stirred in times of dire need... or when guests like me show up and someone decides a little show-and-tell would be appropriate.
Our guide was named Hywel, captain of the forest wardens. That meant he was both head of security and head of hospitality. Front office with a sword. He was tall, composed, and had the kind of poised politeness that would make him a legendary receptionist in the modern world.
We were eventually beckoned into a large building nestled beneath a vine-draped canopy. Inside, a stone table took center stage, surrounded by chairs carved from twisted roots and smoothed by centuries of care.
As we took our seats, my nerves flared again.
KYC. Know Your Counterparty.
I knew next to nothing about these people. Not really. All we had was good intentions and a charming steward.
Then they entered.
A group of five elves, both male and female. They all dressed similarly—tunic-like robes in natural hues, simple but finely made. No clear leader among them... until one of them stepped forward.
"Greetings, Leonhart Alder," said a female elf with amber hair cascading like autumn leaves. Her voice was calm but carried weight. "I am called Betha. I speak here on behalf of our Elven Community as the chosen representation."
"I am honored, Lady Betha. I am Leonhart Alder, scribe to Count Gerhart of Tharros Vale. Our liege extends his warmest greetings to you and your people."
I bowed, as I usually did before corporate clients in my old life. Treat her like the CEO, I told myself. I also decided to delay Karl's awkward question about elven delicacies.
The five of them sat across from us, poised and silent.
The room now felt like a boardroom. Replace the stone table with polished oak, and all we needed was a screen for the PowerPoint presentation.
"Please, do not call me 'Lady'," Betha said gently. "We make no distinction of titles in this community."
Noted. No hierarchy, at least not the visible kind.
"We've heard," she continued, "from our Bovinid trade partners, that they are now welcome to stay in your realm. That this initiative came from you. We are... curious."
She looked at me with sharp but not hostile eyes. I glanced at Franz, impressed by how calm and natural he looked in this setting.
"You heard correctly," I said. "I see value in unity and cooperation. I despise prejudice—of race, faith, or class. In Tharros Vale, the Bovinids—no longer called by slurs—are equal. In rights, responsibilities, and opportunities."
I kept my voice even, resisting the urge to go on a moralist rant.
"A rare stance among human realms," she noted.
"Sadly, yes," I replied.
"And the others? What will the other realms think of Tharros Vale?"
"We don't know," I said flatly. "But it doesn't matter. We'll do what we believe is right. Let them think what they will."
"And if they act against you?"
"Then we defend ourselves."
The air grew thick with tension. I noticed the other elves exchanging subtle glances, murmuring among themselves.
Then Betha smiled.
"I admire your boldness, Leonhart. It reassures us that Tharros Vale may indeed be a realm worth engaging with. This region... was once untouched by humans. When we learned a count was appointed here, we watched him closely. Had he been a threat, we would have acted. Had he been neutral, we would have left him be."
"And which are we, then?" I asked.
"You are neither. You present us with a third option. An opportunity. One we intend to explore."
I swallowed dryly, heart suddenly loud in my chest. "We are honored."
Then I leaned forward. "May we offer a proposition?"
Betha tilted her head slightly. "What proposition?"
I gave Franz a quick signal. He nodded and sat forward, calm and poised.
"I am Franz, steward of Tharros Vale. I propose a mutually beneficial trade agreement—between your people and ours."
Now, it's showtime...